Not Human
by Xeniaxxx
Summary: "Each day I feel more cold, more of my humanity slipping away." Very dark fic. Shizaya.
1. Colliding Elements

_Please be aware that english is not my mother tongue._

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I wander down the crowded streets of Ikebukuro, getting several surreptitious glances from curious pedestrians. Catching my name through the mobs mutter, knowing this time the tables have switched, knowing this time it's me, the infamous informant himself who is going to be the victim of rumours.

Maybe not so surprising when I'm literally taking appearance as a zombie.

But that doesn't make me deaf to my own name mentioned, exposed gossip about the likelihood of my sickness. _Please,_ try comprehend that there is a chance that I might hear you! Do you really think I've been too beside myself to fucking notice my own stature in the mirror? How dare average people even judge a god!?

The combination of my swearing thought train and a mild headache intruding tells me I feel slightly irritated indeed, but real anger doesn't reach the surface.

I'm way too cold to feel such a emotion.

And no, it's not the kind of cold that makes you shiver, seeking warm blankets (tried that) or let desperate beings sleep peaceful to death in a snow storm. Oh no, I believe it's a more complicated kind, the kind that drain you lifeless, until you're nothing more than a living dead. So yeah, I meant _literally_ a zombie.

It freaks me the hell out. Because I don't really have a clue how to fix this. But I know one way to make it go away temporarily.

The best way to fight the cold? The answer is fire.

Yes, and my current goal is to make this city look like a war zone when I'm done.

So I'm only delighted when I recognize the violent way a stop sign is tossed with such ridiculous strength, the top coast of the pavement in front of me crack.

Every human soul freeze at the sight as a creature of destruction find its way across the road. No drivers dare honk even though it's peak hour and people on the foot way doesn't stay to witness the upcoming storm.

Smirking at my dear humans reactions I fill my lungs with the tense atmosphere. I welcome the heating sensation in my veins, withering away the absurd coldness. This is how life should be. I feel my lips curl up in a jerk smirk of anticipation.

"Ah, kowai, kowai! Don't look so pissed, Shizu-chan. You're gonna scare my dear humans away."

As I concluded, humans is fleeing like panicking herbivores. Deserting the concrete area.

"Tch, don't act like that. They're nothing more than toys to you."

I shrug, doing a random hand gesture and place the other hand on my hips.

"Oh, what's that? No 'we' here, eh? So the brute finally admits he's not human."

Clenching one of his fist he use the other hand to push his purple glasses into place while letting an animalistic noise leave his throat.

"Says the flea who likes to fuck innocents life's up?"

From years of analysing this behaviour I can tell from the way he spits these words out in disgust, that only a little push toward the edge is needed for chaos to break free.

"Says the brute who loves violence."

Causing instantly dyspnoea I raise an eyebrow, observing how he suddenly have lowered his head making the blond bangs cover his toffee eyes. Suddenly his arms begin shaking.

" _I HATE violence!"_

Every other day, this guy would with these roaring words explode into rage, causing a wrecking nightmare. And as my plan was, I would use it to my own advantage and get rid of this sickness floating inside my body. But as the seconds pass by I realize something is off. He doesn't attack and isn't determined to. The previous incipient flames is hasty dying by the possibility of an eventual turn down.

"Why did you even bother coming to 'Bukuro? You hate me right? Why use your time on me?"

Taken aback by his questioning slur I feel my mask fall for a second. WHAT is this moron doing?

"Ne, Shizu-chan! It's _you_ are obsessed with the thought of hitting my skull into my brain, remember? But because of your sudden unpredictable interest in deeper thought than primitive devastating, I will try to enlight the underdeveloped brain of yours! You see, the difference is, I love humans. I love, love, love them!" I try to crack up a convincingly grin. "But even if love is such a powerful emotion _hate_ also take up a great deal of ones desire."

I'm aware of how he's switching his weight to the right, posing a more calmed down posture, concluding his threatening attitude is turning softer.

What is with this brute?

"Isn't love supposed to be stronger than anything else or some shit?"

I slightly narrow my face in annoyance. What reply is that? Again I fake a delighted grin "Ne, take this kind piece of advice: drop the philosophic style. You are simply not incapable of pulling it off."

"Tch …" he snorts, " … Flea … You're not kind, you're opinion on me doesn't matter and you avoided my question." Stone face.

When did the protozoan brain become this cocky? I realize my headache have developed into a migraine. I would never have guessed that I, a master of bending words should stand here with the monster also known as the protozoan of Ikebukuro and have a battle of talking rather than with random street objects. Fucking unpredictable oaf.

"To answer your question; no, hatred is considered equal to love outside Disney movies. Some even contend it to be the strongest human emotion."

Deliberately avoiding the main point again. Attempting the last provoke. Even though I know by now that I've lost.

"YOU. ARE. PISSING. ME. OFF."

'Cause he's containing his temper.

"Why are a petty louse like you so determined to fuck my life up? Doesn't little insects have more important things to do?"

"Ne, Shizu-chan should try other mimics than that expression of yours. You've already got a permanent wrinkle in your forehead."

"Cut it out! What have I ever even done to you?"

Even though bluntness is his speciality and not mine, I hear myself saying: "Ha ha, aw Shizu-chan. It's just that your simple existence displease me. A very lot."

I immediately imagine a scenario of him howling: "The feeling is mutual!" followed by the mantra _kill, kill, kill, kill ..._

But reality is a different story.

"Because I'm not …" Crush. "...human?"

I think he just pulverized his phone.

"Because I'm ..." he continues, his voice lowering " ... a monster."

Oh dear lord, applause! So Mr. Stupid here finally got it. Yes, Shizu-chan. I love humans. But I could never love you. You're my _entertainment_. And. Nothing. Fucking. More.

"Precisely."

An unwilling shudder works down my spine as a weird, dark laughter fill the air.

I'm instinctively freezed to the spot.

It's a sound that could only be coming from a madman. No. A mad _monster_.

Hejiwama Shizuo makes a steady pace towards me – snarling - his mocha eyes replaced by a darker shade. Hoping this is the birth of the long waited eruption, my fingertips seek my blade.

"I think I figured it out then. I suppose… Monsters don't really like other monsters, do they?"

I can feel his blazing breath against my face, fire storms grazing my frozen skin and then ...

It's gone.

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I hope I didn't mess up too much.. This is my first attempt for writing a story in english, so I'm not skilled in any way with the language:i


	2. Frostbite

It's my turn to laugh like a monster. Like I'm at my wits end. I'm nearly convinced that if it wasn't for the fact that my tear canals have been drought in years i would cry hysterically right now.

You ask why. I will explain it as an addict who can't get his fix. I will explain it as stepping into unknown territory without a clue about the outcome.

I will explain it as losing control.

And gods simply don't lose control.

I drag my pathetic excuse of a body home, all the way to Shinjuku. Passing by briskly roads, cloud-touching-skyscrapers, narrow alleyways and oceans of people knowing all this used to be my home ground, my kingdom. However now those exact places where I usually perform god-alike parkour seems infinite. Ironic how close I was to achieve that wish today. All I wanted was the beast to lit a spark; set fire to my extinct shell and feel life's ecstasy again. But no, oh no, naturally it had to mess up, turning its fucking _back_ on me. _Rejecting_ me. If I wasn't so desperate I would've waved it off, shaking my head at the hilarious, absurd behavior. But I'm not. I'm wheezing curses under my icy dust clouds. If it's even possible I believe my hatred for the brute just additionally increased.

Arriving to the apartment complex in which I have let most days drift away the recent two months I manage as if by a miracle the trip to the top, sighing relieved chills when finally rustling with the various keyholes. I step into something I may consider home, just to be greeted: "Hey, zombie."

Ah, yes. It was originally Namie, The Secretary Bitch above all secretary bitches who came up with that term and for some reason my brain adopted it for describing this … current condition. But even if I in this moment have the sentiment of weakness, flesh rotting, movements creaking I do realize I'm actually not. Yes, some physical changes have obvious occurred, yet the real deal is my mind. My thoughts is hazy by the exposure. Freezing down reality day for day.

"Ugh, do you ever cut your nails?" a certain bitch snap, "Seriously, do something about it. It's disgusting."

Too tired to back bite I just look down, noticing that even though I cut my nails this very morning, she's indeed right.

In denial it's because of my secretary's insult I promptly feel dirty, I leave the spacious room in favour of a bath. Not bothering with stripping, I spin the tap for hot water and crawl into the tub to let wet heat enclose all body parts. It's not satisfying whatsoever. My chest is still aching by chunks of ice.

"… _I suppose… Monsters don't really like other monsters, do they?"_

 _Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!_ Too exhausted to in fact utter my crazy outburst of laughter, I just let the inner voice echo. My vision blurring by ice smog. Agonizing numbness.

I've all of sudden had enough.

"NAMIE! Boil some water!"

.

At least this is a perception of being _alive_. Every movement is painful, but I keep repeating to myself it's okay as long as my suffering don't emanate from frostbite. The worst part is the low whisper of narcissism, complaining about somewhat ruined smooth porcelain skin.

After using fifteen minutes escaping from soaked clothes and succeeding in taking on an sloppy outfit consisting of an oversized t-shirt and boxershorts I return to the main room, letting myself fall backwards into the comforting leather of the office-chair with the intention of having some work done. Intentional ignoring Namies shocked reaction; her gaze carefully watching my every action as was I at a mental breaking point.

Even so the concern suddenly disappear around work hours end.

I'm currently speaking with a contact on the phone when I pick up rustles in the background unveiling she's rather busy with getting her stuff collected to get away from her crazy employer.

" _What should we do with them?"_

"Hmm?" I noise bewildered, having all of sudden completely lost the thread of the ongoing conversation.

" _The two you hired as observers but in the end betrayed the mission."_

"What with those?"

" _Ehm, well … they're held captured by now. Shouldn't they undergo some sort of punishment …?"_

Ahaha, yeah, so what does those scum deserve? Observing pink fingers clasped around a cup of hot, bitter liquid continuing refusing to absorb the temperature, needless to say, acrimony arise.

 _They should suffer. They should experience injustice-_

Rime frost on my retina melt. I blink away tiny thawing slow flakes as if they were tears, clearing my eyesight. Dumbfounded by such abruptly heat emerging from just the _thought_ alone, I let the command slip.

"Torture them."

Somewhere _something_ catch fire.

" _Wha-what? Could you please be a little more specific …?"_

 _I'm_ on fire.

"I don't care, really, be a little creative ... chop their hands off or something." Before any protests can be vocalized I drop my phone into my coffee. "... Just make sure they scream."

I'm sincere fascinated by the sight; The little machine drowning in the black substance. The muffled voice in the other end silenced by an almost nonexistent splash. And I can as a matter of fact I inhale without tasting blizzards. I see my surroundings whirring as I spin my chair in a pleasing inferno, letting out noises which possibly could be confused with chuckles.

"You're a sick bastard."

Facing toward the horrific statement, tinge-less female eyes pierce me. Second after second ticks away holding each others stares before she defeatist shakes her head, and step out of the door frame, nevertheless able to make me cringe when slamming the door harshly behind her.

My grin transform into a sad smile. Inwardly giving her credit for such true words coming out of her mouth lately.

As the warmth is ongoing, I move restless around appreciating the music of a strong heart rate. Ecstatic from hope of having discovered a cure I dash to the kitchen immediately reaching for a razor-sharp knife. Coming in touch with steel you would have expected coolness, but as I predict I'm rewarded with a fervent rush into my bloodstream. Clinging to the knife handle I carry it with me, instantly longing for sleep. Well, just one last thing to do.

Mirroring my eyeball I poke the sclera gently and fiddle with a brown lens which have covered my iris in public recently.

I place the contacts lenses back into their small container. Then hesitantly, I raise my gaze and catch an intense stare in my own reflection.

Crimson eyes. Blood color. Creepy. Not human.

Not human at all.

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SORRY for the crappy writing.. really … I feel so bad for any person reading this.. I just thought this chapter have taken way too much time. And well I know there must be hiding several stupid mistakes caused by my minor experience with english. I'm so sorry, but my brain is simply incapable of seeing disasters sometimes. :s And I apologize for any reader's time waiting.. half of the chapter was deleted so I had to write it again plus I'm in general a slow writer, err (and not a good one either... have mercy )

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Hi "Nobody"

I really appreciate your review. It made me very happy to get a response and it was even positive. Thank you for pointing out my mistake, I will try fix it! I hope I cleared out about the zombie-thing in this chapter, because even though this is a story with supernatural elements, Izaya is not a real zombie, at any rate not the kind we know from the movies.

What do I mean by "dark fic"... I don't know exactly how this story will evolve because even though I have an idea about the overall plot I haven't totally decided how it will go in the end. I guess I just want to write and see what happens. But if I follow the current plan there will be both violence and dark thoughts. So yea, this fic is mainly based on a "dark" atmosphere..

Thanks again:)


	3. Death Dancing

"What do you think you are doing?"

"By any means what is being expected I construe from those words of yours?"

"Don't try acting confused or dumb. You know what I mean."

"..."

"The city. It's slowly being teared apart."

"Don't you think you got the wrong number, then? I don't recall my name is Shizu-chan."

"... not in the _thunderstorm_ way, in the twisted … dark way."

"Ne, Shinra, don't accuse people for things without substance."

"You're capable of pulling the strings from the shadows."

"You know, I'm deeply honored that you have so high expectations about me, but there is no way one person can wreck the greater picture to that degree."

"Isn't it you who calls yourself a god?"

"..."

"Your games with people have always been wicked, but this time you've taken it too far. Listen, are you okay? I don't know what is happening, but something is definitely not right about y-"

 _Phone call disconnected._

 _._

Another insignificant face blistered beyond recognition. The human cough violent, resulting in sending red spray onto the ground, although barely recognizable as a color in the subdued illumination.

Time to move on with the procedure.

I drag a slender blade, the instrument fitting perfectly into my palm.

"You don't need to do it anymore. He gave up all the information a long time ago-"

"Pardon me," I spit aware that I fail at masking my anger. "But I think somewhere in your memory an error have taken place at this rather unfortunate moment." I detach from the beautiful sight of broken pieces and stare at the intruder. "It's part of the deal, remember? This human belongs to me." _You all do._

I'm fairly amused by the instant response; the man stumbling backwards, mumbling petty apologies all the while carefully eschewing eye contact.

 _Yes, you all do._

 _And you're all going to suffer._

Paying attention to the hunched figure anew I draw close. Swollen eyelids and burned skin flakes make it difficult to sight the bloodshot eyes. "Did you hear that? We can continue our fun all night long. Isn't it nice?" I sense the scent of panic, but he remain mute, maybe finally understanding that I'm immune to pleading.

At first I was most for the psychological aspect. The fun of researching your victims greatest fears and phobias to see them struggle with raw panic as you cram them into narrow boxes, take out spiders and snails and force them to eat it or manipulate them into thinking their family is dead.

I don't really have a thing for physically abuse. Too primitive. Shizu-chan-ish. Not my style. Although the latest cases contradict that statement. Just if as I really _have_ developed into a monster craving for real blood.

 _Blood is extremely beautiful._

That exact line impale my brain just know as said liquid darken the floor all the while chopping my victims finger off, one by one. _And it's warm._ Hardly noticing the captive's squirming and screaming until he fall numb. Disappointed of the fact that he seems rather unconscious I let go of the limp body.

"Tch … no fun, are you …" I snort, already bored and lacking warmth. "Ha ha, oh well, guess the show is over for today." Taking my leave I raise my dear knife and let my tongue slide along the pointy edge, tasting metallic sweetness. I'm not usually fond of sugary stuff but I'm fairly tempted to reconsider my opinion.

.

"You gotta be kidding me. That's not freaky normal."

"Says the woman who wants to sex her brother."

I deliberately begin slurping to speed up her ageing process. My tongue explode in nuanced flavors and in the meantime it seems working. Her annoyed wrinkles is quite conspicuous, succeeding in making her look like an old hag.

I fake a smile at her.

"Fucking disgusting freak."

"Mind your own business or fuck off."

"I might do. I'm going to throw up!"

"Do you honestly think I care the tiniest bit about you? Just do your paper work."

"..."

"..."

"People talk about you."

"Don't they always?"

"It's said you have turned into a psychopathic creep aroused by devouring human flesh. And by now it seems I can sincere confirm that."

I hiss. Blood saliva hit her, sticking to her hair.

"O.K. I'm _done_!"

I want to state it's not human meat but her reaction is so stereotypical for some teenage girl freaking out because of a spider that no words is spoken. Instead I crack up. It's so fucking hilarious that my laughter hysterical jingle against the walls for a few whole minutes even if my secretary's hasty foot steps is long gone.

.

If I was questioning my sanity before, this at least have to be clear evidence that my head is not taking optimal decisions. And the monster seem just as genuinely surprised as I feel by my own action, if assuming it doesn't have any of its brother's acting skills. But really, who wouldn't find it odd that your we-want-to-see-each-other-dead-enemy politely knock on your door? Or is it just me? Fuck, I don't know. I can't say my judgement around normality have been intact lately.

"Flea," it growls with obvious irritation sticking to it's face. "Did madness finally get the better of you?"

"Ah, so great humour. Let's get to the point. And I will only say this once." I don't know why I'm doing this. I've already been rejected once, and now I come crawling back like an entreating underdog? A god to a neanderthal? "Come dance with me, Shizu-chan. Let's try kill each other~"

"No."

" _Huh_ , what do you mean 'no'?"

"I hate you."

"I'm afraid I don't follow your illogical ways of thinking."

"Doesn't matter."

This strange new arrogant attitude is getting serious on my nerves.

"Are you trying to delude me that you don't fall asleep every night to the sweet picture of my dead, cold body, hmm?"

" _What?_ " he pretend the scenario deeply disturbs him. "What ... have happened to you?" Not this again.

"Stop changing the subject. One last time. Shizu-chan."

This is weird, we might just have had the most ordinary conversation in several months, although it's actual an argument revolving around whether or not we should be fighting to death.

"Wouldn't be fair. What kind of drugs are you on?"

My pent-up anger make me act on impulse. I take a swipe at the throat and smirk when fire eat up my wrists. Its hands have caught me in the air just a few centimeters from slicing skin. "Is that so?" I voice, strangely not afraid. Even if one could suspect revenge from pulling such an act. Even if I'm in the situation of possible death in any second that would most likely involve every bone in my body crushed to dust. But I find myself oddly not really worried about such a thing, more than that I am amazed by the flaming touch locked around my hands and the dragon breath within reach. I want to die burning up in it.

"What the fuck do you _want_ from me?"

 _I want to feel alive without performing pain for once._

"I think I've already explained myself didn't I? I want to dance."

"I know, but I don't want to. Not anymore."

"Like I said, I don't follow your not-logical logic. Explain yourself."

Sighing, he let go of my wrist and the connection is broken, the flames immediately slightly fading. In some corner of my brain, anxiety break out.

"I'm _sick_ of this." I perceive every word is drowning in blame pointed at me. "The rage, the violence. First of all, I can't keep up with all your little smart ass flea tricks and traps anyway. Secondly, the only way to finish this is when one of us die and the other become a murderer."

I'm resisting the urge to go for the throat again.

"And I don't want that. So, what is the point? It's endless warfare, and we're just keeping ravaging the city, how long time will go by before our fights lead to negligent manslaughter?"

I shot it a look of unpleasant surprise, half due to the fact that it knows the meaning of those words, half due to the fact that its brain actually _is_ able to reflect on things. Desperately searching for something that can support the theory that this being is a monster I analyze the said soul mirrors. They're not mushy like Namie's, but clear and warm with amber nuances I never really have noticed before.

I want to cut them out right now on the spot.

"Get lost, Izaya." He says with a frown before slamming the door in my face. The afterward chill breeze is unbearable.

Oh, haha dear sweetheart it's not that simple. How on earth do you think you can get away like that?

If I can't have my humanity I will make sure you can't either.

"If that's your final answer …" I speak to no one in spectacular, "then I'm afraid I have to break you."

* * *

So … A thought came across the other day that I probably should warn you about how fucked up this story's current plot line is … I kinda see this as an experimental project where a lot of my darkest places in my mind will have its fair share. Please be aware that _reading is at own expense. _ Don't come scolding me afterwards. You were warned! Thanks.


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